Disharmony
by redcandle
Summary: The marriage of King Robert and his queen Cersei is dysfunctional, to say the least. Warning: Marital rape, references to domestic violence, abortion, incest. Cersei/Robert and Cersei/Jaime.


Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements from A Song of Ice and Fire belong to George R.R. Martin. No copyright infringement is intended.

The king was getting fat. It both repulsed Cersei and made her maliciously glad. Robert was oblivious to the thickness around his middle, strutting naked around her bed chamber as if he still had the body of the terrible warrior who'd robbed the realm of Prince Rhaegar. Even when he'd been handsome and well-made, she had felt no attraction to him. Now she could scarcely conceal her contempt.

"Come to bed, my lord." She was not pleased he had shown up, but the sooner she got him off, the sooner he would sleep and she would be free to seek out Jaime.

He was not so drunk and for that she was grateful. When he was very drunk, that was when he'd insist on getting between her legs. She endured his sloppy kisses and his squeezing and twisting of her breasts, but when he touched her thigh, she took his manhood into her hands. That would not be enough though. She closed her eyes and allowed him to enter her mouth.

Once she had put her hand on Rhaegar's thigh when she'd been seated next to him at some feast. He had removed it without a word. Cersei would have been willing to do this for _him_. She doubted he would have sounded like an animal the way Robert did, not with his melodious voice.

As soon as Robert was sound asleep snoring, Cersei rinsed her mouth and left to seek her twin. He was standing guard outside the children's quarters. The queen kissed Myrcella and Tommen without waking them, and told the Hound it was time for Joffrey to go to bed.

"It's early," Joffrey complained.

Cersei hugged her first-born son and kissed his golden curls. It was all for him. She debased herself with Robert for his sake. Her son would be king one day. "It's late. Your father is already abed."

When they were alone, Jaime seized her and rained kisses over her face, neck, and shoulders. "I wanted to follow him to your bed and skewer him," he said. "I'd cut his heart out and lay it in your lap."

She slipped her hands under his white tunic and caressed his flat, hard stomach. "And when Ser Barristan came running?"

"I'd cut down the old man too."

It was her fertile time and three children were enough, so she had to insist that Jaime withdraw at the last moment and wet her belly. He did as he was told, as he always did.

Her cheeks were flushed and her hair rumpled when she returned to her bed chamber, but old Barristan Selmy seemed not to notice as he held the door open for her. The night was hot, but Cersei slid beneath the covers so she would not have to feel Robert's skin against hers. She dreamt pleasant dreams; a man with hair paler than Jaime's came to her bed and later seated her beside him on the Iron Throne.

Morning was rather less pleasant. Robert was awake and groping all the parts of her body within his reach. The stubble of his beard scratched her as he nuzzled her neck. He pulled the covers away and rolled her onto her back. Cersei clamped her thighs together and made him pry them apart.

"Robert, let me please you another way…"

"I want to _fuck_, woman."

Cersei remained still and silent while he did as he pleased. Once, shortly after their wedding, she had considered shouting Rhaegar Targaryen's name while he was inside her. But even then, before he'd struck her for the first time or even raised his voice, she'd known it was a bad idea. If she did it, she'd be dead before Jaime could save her.

"Shave," was all she said to him afterwards. "You've irritated my skin."

He did not return to her bed for weeks, but the shadow on his cheeks and chin grew thicker. The sight of him put her in a foul mood every time she saw him. One evening, he slipped his hand beneath the skirts of the skinny serving girl who brought them wine as though his queen was not sitting right beside him. Cersei restrained herself from slapping him only because Jaime would see him strike her back and her twin would not let that pass.

When she went to the king's bed chamber that night Ser Arys would not meet her eyes. "His Grace is…indisposed," he said.

Cersei pushed him aside and let herself in the room. Some wench was giggling as Robert rubbed his bushy beard across her scrawny chest. "I wish to speak to the king," she announced.

The girl scurried from the room. Cersei committed her face to memory and resolved to have her punished later.

Robert reached for the flagon of wine on his bedside table. "What do you want, woman?"

"My lord father sent letters on the matter of coinage and gold supply. Why have you not replied to him?"

"Jon will take care of it."

"You are the king," Cersei reminded him. "Arryn is being unreasonable, and in any case, he cannot proceed without your signature."

"Jon is my Hand…"

Cersei made her voice soft and put a smile on her face. "And I am your wife." She raised her skirts and climbed onto the bed. "I only seek to ease your burdens." She unlaced her bodice and slid down his body until his manhood was nestled between her breasts.

"I'll look at the papers in the morning," he said when she was finished.

Her victory was short-lived. Her moon's blood did not come at its accustomed time. Robert's vile seed had taken root in her womb.

"I will not have it," Cersei said. "I want it out of me. I will not bear his spawn."

"Grand Maester Pycelle must know how to handle these things," Jaime said.

"You fool," Cersei snapped. "Pycelle is Father's creature. Do you think Father will be pleased when he learns of it?"

"Perhaps your maids…"

Cersei flung herself into his arms. "I only trust you, Jaime. You must help me."

The wizen old woman Jaime brought to her chambers reminded her of something unpleasant, though she could not recall just what it was. When it was over and the bed was soaked with blood, Cersei told herself the pain was nothing compared to what the pain of bearing Robert's spawn would have been like.

"Get rid of her," she told Jaime. "And fetch the maester. Tell him the queen has miscarried."

When a day passed and Robert had not come to see her, Cersei had the bloody sheets sent to him. That was all he would ever have of her.


End file.
